


Sweet Summertime

by sarahstarkiller



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brendol Hux isn't the worst, Chewie is a dog, Homophobia, M/M, Rating May Change, Summertime Sadness, a poor grasp on politics, ben solo is a sweetiepie, but he's also not the best, but it all works out in the end!, possible mention of transphobia, so are r2 and bb-8 and 3-po, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-22 20:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13771887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahstarkiller/pseuds/sarahstarkiller
Summary: Arkanis Pond was an attractive place to a very specific brand of people, and Armitage Hux was not one of those people. Spending his summers with his father at their house on the lake had become significantly more unbearable since his mother died just a few years earlier. Everything reminded him of her and of the way things used to be, and simply being there hurt him to no end. Brendol needed him there, though, so as to prove to his political friends (and enemies) that he was a well-rounded man and father. But Armitage's patience with the whole thing, with Arkanis Pond and all of its inhabitants was wearing thin. That much is true, until the family across the lake, the Solos, offers him what he's been missing all these years; family, friendship, and the possible rekindling of a brief romance.





	1. Chapter 1

“Have a good summer, Mr. Hux.”

 

He smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but the bell sounded and cut Armitage off before he could wish his pupil the same. Instead, he gave his rushing students a tight-lipped smile and a small wave to the few of them that said goodbye. When the room was clear and the door shut behind the slowest student, muffling the noise in the hallway and leaving behind scattered papers, Armitage sat and closed his eyes, bringing his joined hands to rest against his lips. He was lucky to have a job he loved, as many of his coworkers couldn’t agree as much as he couldn’t comprehend _why_. He worked in a wonderful high school with fantastic kids that he could learn as much from as they could from him. Yes, his students made him happy, but they were going away now. The school year was complete. And Armitage could not possibly feel more empty. 

 

A sweet-smelling breeze slipped in through the open window and broke him out of his sleep-like pondering. Yes, the real work was just beginning, today. He was all packed and — mostly — ready to go. He slouched at his desk and sighed, wishing for just one more day of school, so he could teach and enjoy himself and have a few more moments of peace before seeing his father. But all good things eventually draw to a close, there is an end to every seemingly endless happiness. The only way to know that is when it is finally over. 

 

In an effort to prolong his time spent in his classroom, he made neatening the room up an event. He slowly picked each chair up, turned it over and placed it on its respective desk. He walked up and down the aisles with leisure, scanning for any abandoned pencils, pens, papers. He strolled over to his bookcase and, with a tilt to his head and a moment of contemplation, emptied it completely just to place the books back according to color, then rearrange them entirely so they were sorted by genre. Armitage wiped his desk off, straightened the picture frames which captured his enormous smile with every class he’s ever had, opened each drawer just to close it and then, finally, he knew he couldn’t stay any longer. His cellphone had vibrated a while ago but he ignored it, knowing it was a text message from Brendol Hux, probably nagging him to _get there already_. He pushed his chair in, slung his brown leather satchel over his shoulder and moved to the window. He didn’t know nor care how long he’d put off leaving, but the sun was certainly lower in the sky, and there was no longer any noise outside his classroom. He inhaled deeply and exhaled through his mouth before closing the window and locking it, pulling the shade down just right so it wouldn’t fly up again. He made his way to the door, but stopped with one foot in the hallway. He’d forgotten to erase the board. He stared at it as his hand rose to flick the light switch, plunging the room into soft darkness. He kept the door open for the janitor and walked away. He left what was written there.

 

-

 

The drive consisted of winding roads and glaring sunlight through his windshield. He could drive this route blindfolded with one hand, and he both loved and hated that fact. There was a time when feeling the car move over these roads would excite him, but now, as he let any one of his playlists murmur though his speakers, he felt nothing but a hint of sad nostalgia. It was all fine, though. If everything went the way he expected, the way he _hoped_ , this would be his last journey across these bending roads.

 

Armitage thought that the ride wasn’t as long as it used to be as he pulled into the driveway of his summer home. The porch lights in the back were already on and Armitage had to shoo away flies as he passed by and entered. Strangely, the house felt bigger than it did when he was just a child. The ceiling was too high, the rug was too spotless, the kitchen was far too spacious. Surely it was too big for two people. It was silly, the dozens of renovations done long after they stopped needing them. Before he could actually absorb his setting, his father appeared through the sliding glass door with a huge smile and open arms.

 

“Armitage!” Brendol squeezed his son and Armitage did his best to hug him back. Pulling back and holding him by the shoulders, Brendol asked, “how was the drive?”

 

The smile on Armitage’s face was genuine. “Same as always. Lots of turns and trees.”

 

Brendol regarded his son for a beat before patting his shoulder and leading him to the deck. “Not bad, then. Come say hello to some of my friends. We were just finishing up dinner. Are you hungry?”

 

Brendol might’ve said something else, but Armitage had stopped listening. At the table on the deck sat four of his father’s friends, politicians that Brendol actually did enjoy the company of and didn’t just tolerate to stay on their good side. Brendol Hux worked in the state senate, though Armitage was never sure of his exact position. All he knew or cared even a little bit about was that his father held some form of power and was, if he were to judge by the frequent and bustling parties he threw together, very liked and respected. It all drove Armitage absolutely mad.

 

He greeted his father’s guests and had no choice but to accept the glass of champagne Brendol shoved into his hand. Luckily, the attention quickly shifted from him to his father, and Armitage moved to lean on the deck’s railing and tune everything out. He gazed out over Arkanis Pond, which was too big to really be considered a pond but was too small to call it a lake. The water was so still that it could be confused for glass, if it weren’t for the slight ripple a nervous frog caused down by the Huxes' dock. Armitage breathed in the familiar, smoky scent of summer on the lake and was filled with a strange combination of sadness and joy. It sat like pebbles in his gut. Somewhere on the lake, a woman laughed, and the pleasant sound was carried right to his ears and didn’t knock before entering. He was thankful to be broken out of his trance, aware again and not stood still, stuck on how he felt to be present. It was silent behind him. His father’s friends must’ve gone, with the sun on their tails.

 

He must have zoned out for a while, then.

 

Brendol finished cleaning up from dinner and looked at Armitage. There was a beautiful purple and blue glow round his son, dotted with gray. It seemed fitting as the older Hux stood beside his son.

 

Armitage didn’t acknowledge his father’s presence but he was very aware of the warm glass in his hand, the champagne inside untouched.

 

A lightning bug buzzed past them in the empty air between the deck and the ground, lazy and unbothered. A chill was sneaking up on everyone at the lake, but neither Hux felt it.

 

Brendol hesitated, but decided to break the silence. “Phasma came earlier. Wanted to know when you’d be here.” He spoke softly, reminiscent of the way he talked to his child when he was, well…a child.

 

At the mention of his best friend, Armitage smiled. “I’ll go say hi later.”

 

Brendol nodded slowly, knowing he was about to say something that would make both of them blue. “You know, I can tell you’re not happy.” His words were slow and careful.

 

Armitage glanced at him, noting a mere dash of anger in the sea of unhappiness he felt rushing inside him. “How can you expect me to be happy?” Armitage wore a hint of a smile but it was bitter and condescending.

 

“I don’t,” Brendol was quick to reply. “All I meant by it was, it’s not going to hurt this bad forever. If nothing else, time will separate us. Time gives us some sort of cushion that offers a bit of rest from our anguish. You don’t look like you’ve rested well.” Brendol’s words were not tinted with malice, only genuine concern. 

 

Armitage closed his eyes. “I’ve tried,” he assured him through his own frustration.

 

“I know better than anyone that it’s not easy.” Brendol tried to follow his son’s gaze when his eyes opened again, but he seemed to focus on nothing. With a sigh, Brendol said, “I don’t want you to dwell on it-“

 

“Then why did you bring it up?” Armitage snapped and it was still impossibly gentle. He finally looked at his father, but his expression was weirdly content. He didn’t seem to be upset by his outburst.

 

“Not sure,” was Brendol’s brief answer before he glanced to his feet, looked out at the water and then turned and retreated into the house.

 

Armitage didn’t watch him go but he still felt guilty. It didn’t matter, though. Brendol could handle much more than Armitage could, it was always that way. He was able to shake things off the way his son never could. God, he wishes he knew how. Maybe someday he’d learn. But right now, everything hurt, just a little yet enough that it was killing him inside. He took a small sip of the champagne. It was warm and more disgusting than usual. He grimaced and held it over the railing, but his eye was caught by a relatively unimportant scene.

 

Across the lake, a fire was being lit. Armitage watched it come to life and glow. Three men stood by it, and if he listened very closely, Armitage could hear their voices. He recognized one of them immediately; Ben Solo. He was the one with the dark hair, the one who had started the fire. Undoubtedly, he was preparing his home for another one of their parties.

 

The Solos were the family that lived in the house across the lake. Mr. and Mrs. Solo were nice enough, but their son, Benjamin, was rowdy and untamable. He was slightly younger than Hux but had a much more muscular build, with hair that fell to his shoulders. Every weekend was lively over there at the Solos', and that was mostly because Ben could drink his weight in beer, could sing louder than anyone Hux had ever met (even Phasma), and was as sociable as his own father. The Solos' home was always full of their closest friends and family, bustling with laughter and activity and that _god-awful_ country music that they loved to blast every day. The Solos were the life of the party and everyone on Arkanis Pond knew it. Using that logic, Armitage’s place was the graveyard. It was easy to get jealous of it all, of all the fun they were always having, all the people to fill such a big house. Such a big home. But Armitage supposed it didn’t matter much, it wouldn’t by the end of the summer. He didn’t plan on coming back.

 

Armitage watched carefully as Ben moved down from the fire to the edge of the water. He rolled his blue jeans up as he stepped into the water and Armitage thought he’d be a lot easier to despise if he weren’t so gorgeous. He wanted only to see his face up close, just one more time.

 

Ben must’ve decided the water was warm enough, for he stripped his t-shirt off and tossed it onto the grass behind him. He hopped out of his jeans and threw those away, too, leaving him in the tiniest black speedo Armitage had ever, _ever_ seen. He actually couldn’t believe his eyes. He was just thankful no one was around to witness the pink tint to his cheeks.

 

Ben waded further into the water and when it was at his thighs, he stood and stretched, his whole body on perfect display. ‘ _The bastard,’_ Armitage thought. If Ben was making a show of himself on purpose, Armitage would personally swim over there and talk some sense into the oaf. Ben disappeared underwater for a moment, then resurfaced, his hair slicked back and dripping. Armitage watched with his bottom lip between his teeth as Ben strutted — yes, he even had the audacity to _strut_ — across his yard and to his door under his deck. He picked up a towel on the way and quickly dried off, shaking his hair out like a dog and making it seem like the most elegant thing ever. He wrapped the towel around himself and went into his own home. 

 

Armitage stood still for a while, thinking of nothing at all. He dumped his champagne and turned to leave before he could hear it splatter in the grass below.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment if you notice any references!

Armitage woke much earlier than he’d wished to; the sun was just a pale yellow spot who tried desperately to cut through the fog that rolled over the lake. The crickets hadn’t even quieted yet, making him groan and roll over, hoping to fall asleep for even five more minutes. But he knew it was a futile and stupid gesture as he lied there, eyes wide open. Sleep didn’t come easy anymore, as it once had, particularly in this bed. On Arkanis Pond, the scent of a campfire permeated all your blankets and clothing even if you hadn’t been anywhere near a flame. That’s just the way it was, and Armitage used to find that comforting, used to breathe it in before he fell asleep, listening to his parents talk softly and giggle out on the deck, but now the scent that was soaked into his bed, into his very skin, only made him sick.

 

He sat up, the bed creaking slightly with the movement, and looked back to the window. The fog was quickly thinning out, the sun shining a bit brighter than before. Birds chirped softly, their calls languid and drawn out. Beside his bed, atop a pile of dusty novels he never did read as a child, lay a pair of binoculars. He smiled at the memory of birdwatching with his mother. She had bought him that pair of binoculars, along with a small notebook to record his findings.

 

_‘A small, winged bird,’ he had scribbled onto the paper, squinting up into the tree just to be sure._

 

_Rae leaned over and read what her son had written. She laughed, “well, you’re certainly not wrong!”_

 

_Armitage smiled with the binoculars still held up to his eyes, whirling around to see every branch, to discover every creature. He let them hang around his neck. “Would you like to try to find another bird?” He offered the binoculars to Rae._

 

_“Of course,” she agreed, taking them up to her eyes and scanning the trees outlining Arkanis Pond. After a minute, she gasped, “Armie! You’ll never believe it!”_

 

_“What?” He asked excitedly, readying his pen and paper as if it were a matter of great importance and, really, it was. “What do you see?”_

 

_Rae lowered the binoculars and turned to him, a smile spreading across her face. “I see a small, brown bird with two wings and a beak!”_

 

_He gasped, excited to note that the bird did, in fact, have a beak as well as wings._

 

Armitage hadn’t noticed he had reached down and picked up the binoculars until a bird sang a deafening tune right outside his window, and he felt the weight of an object so precious atop his chest. With a pained smile, he used his shirtsleeve to wipe the dust off the lenses and set it down on his bed. Maybe he’d go birdwatching today. Or, at the very least, sometime soon, before summer’s end.

 

He rose and stretched, and it was with a sigh that he moved to his bag at the foot of his bed to retrieve a pair of blue swim shorts. He tugged his sweats off and put the bathing suit on, choosing to throw on a soft white button up he had probably stolen from his father too many years ago. The middle button was missing, likely somewhere in the house, trapped under a bed or chair and collecting dust until the end of time. Armitage liked to imagine it was woven into a chickadee’s nest somewhere on the lake.

 

In the kitchen, he put on a pot of coffee and made some toast, creating an event of simply spreading strawberry jam on each slice of bread. He poured himself a cup of coffee, adding only a dash of sugar before taking his meager breakfast outside to eat on the deck. He slid the glass door open and the warmth swallowed Armitage entirely, at first a comfortable embrace which he knew would later turn into a deadly, sweltering grip. He sat at the table and his eyes almost instantly slid shut as he slouched, breathing in the scent he was so well acquainted with; cool air swirled a bit with a hot, heavy sweetness intertwined, locked in. There was that oaky hint that never did leave, beside it a freshness that touched the setting with eager fingertips. He inhaled deeply, till his lungs were absolutely full of it and clear of the dust that settled there over the school year. It felt _fucking good_ to clean up his insides.

 

His coffee was drained and his toast transformed into crumbs before he knew it. He sauntered back inside to set his dish in the sink and grab his sunglasses before heading out the back door. He walked onto the dirt road which was lined with pebbles, not giving a thought to his bare feet, as walking on rocks and feeling no pain was a skill everyone on the lake learned very quickly and never forgot. He was headed to Phasma’s house, a quaint cabin on the other side of the lake though it wasn’t on the water. He passed the dam, an oddly pretty sight for such a functional structure. Through his appreciative gaze sat a familiar figure on the dam, beside it an old fisherman casting his line out onto the water. Armitage first gawked, then smiled, nearly splitting his face in half.

 

“Mills!” He called and the chubby, orange cat’s head turned from the fisherman’s pole to her owner’s face. If felines were capable of smiling, Millicent would be doing just that.

 

She hopped off the dam and pranced over to Armitage, rubbing up against his legs and purring loudly. The fisherman, who he now recognized as Mr. Snoke, glanced back at them with a glimmer in his eye.

 

“I’m sorry, was she bothering you?” Armitage apologized, squatting to pet Millicent behind her pointy ears. She leaned up into his hand.

 

“Not at all!” Snoke assured with a grin and a wave of his bony hand, turning back to the water and saying mostly to himself, “she’s such a sweet thing.”

 

“Come on, Mills,” he murmured and the cat walked happily beside him on the pebbled road. “You’ve got to stop disappearing in the night, you know how Father worries about you being eaten by a bear.”

 

Millicent looked up to her owner with a look in her eyes that almost seemed to convey a sad comprehension of his words. She blinked and her whiskers glimmered in the sunlight as she meowed, a dragonfly’s landing pulling her ahead of Armitage on the side of the road. She pounced, but the insect was flying off before she even got near it. Still, she strode along with her chin held high above the ground.

 

She didn’t walk peacefully for long, however, as she soon spotted four dogs of various breeds and sizes, none of them on a leash yet walking calmly side by side. She scampered up to them excitedly, the smallest one letting out an eager bark and allowing Mills to twist herself between his legs. Armitage’s eyes flicked to the biggest one which was chestnut brown and impossibly fluffy, and he knew exactly who he’d be greeting. His palms were suddenly very sweaty.

 

“Hello, Ben,” he forced out and was proud that it sounded mostly steady. He couldn’t prevent the smile that played out on his face as he finally met the man’s eyes. They seemed to glitter in the sunlight, like flames of a campfire.

 

Ben was sporting what may have been the shortest running shorts he’d ever seen, though, looking down at his own swimming trunks, he had little room to talk. They were black, as were his socks and running shoes _and_ headband.

 

The crooked grin Ben wore was the most awe worthy of his entire appearance, Armitage thought.

 

“Hi,” he said after exhaling deeply, as he had been running just moments before and, yes, it was difficult to keep pulling his eyes away from the glistening layer of sweat on his chest, his broad shoulders and strong arms. “Armitage.” He said his name in a lower voice, as if it were an afterthought, an idea tacked to the end of a sentence.

 

Ben tugged his headband off and ran a hand through his tangled hair, but Armitage couldn’t simply admire the sight as he was being approached by Ben’s dog, Chewbacca.

 

Armitage wasn’t particularly fond of dogs, but these ones were nice enough, and if Millicent liked them, then he had no choice but to deal with it. Chewbacca was panting, as were the rest of his companions, his tongue hanging off to the side as he plopped himself in front of Armitage.

 

“Hello, Chewie,” he greeted the mutt, reaching down to scratch him behind his floppy ears. Armitage could see out of his peripheral vision as the corners of Ben’s mouth turned up even more.

 

Ben was squatting as he pat Millie’s head. “How was the school year?” He looked up and found that the ginger was surrounded by Artoo, Threepio and Bee Bee now, as well as Chew, who was now rolled over onto his back and silently asking for Armitage to rub his belly. He accepted the dog’s request.

 

“It was wonderful,” Armitage replied, his tone thick with delight. “One of the best, dare I say,” he smirked and looked at Ben, too aware of the way all the sweet air he’d breathed in earlier was now leaving him. God, _fuck_ , how was it possible for someone to become even more breathtaking in just a few short months? Or was it just the cushion of time away from him that softened Ben’s features, that dusted more freckles across his nose and shoulders but also sharpened his jaw, his ember gaze and the cut of his muscles? Perhaps he didn’t look any different from last summer and Armitage had merely mourned the time spent not seeing his face, making their reunion all the more mesmerizing.

 

“I don’t doubt it,” Ben agreed, his voice sickeningly sincere as his eyes flicked to Armitage with a familiar light about them. “You’ve always been a good teacher, so it’s not shocking you’re such a big hit over there.”

 

Something stirred inside Armitage like the dust on the very road when he had pulled in the night before. It was a pit inside his gut, hot and deep and entirely too close to overwhelming him. “Well, thank you. That means a lot,” Armitage told him, his face painted with the faintest flush, but he just hoped Ben would assume he was already burning. 

 

Ben wasn’t oblivious, though, never had been.

 

“Oh, and Armitage?” Ben’s voice danced in the space between them and Armitage immediately recognized that tone. He looked up at him, still petting Chewie’s belly. “Chewie has fleas.”

 

His hands stilled and he began to stand up, but Ben’s hearty laugh stopped him. “I’m only messing, he’s _pristine_.”

 

Armitage’s grin spread like a cure to the disease that had been plaguing him for a long time now. He felt his heart float, then beat faster in his chest which felt cleared of all the debris of mourning.

 

Ben chuckled when Armitage scratched under Chew’s chin, the mongrel’s leg thumping against the ground in bliss. He opened his mouth to speak once more, but was cut off when Artoo suddenly barked and bolted up the road with Threepio on his tail — literally. Ben shot to his feet.

 

“Artoo!” He boomed, but the dog was going full speed ahead, allowing Threepio to chase after him, the pair making the dirt road cloud up in their wake. Bee Bee stood, shaking, his head turning from his friends to his master. Ben sighed, shaking his head in mostly feigned exasperation. He met Armitage’s eye and matched his pitying smile. Ben whistled and Chewbacca was on his feet in an instant, Bee Bee seeming to shake with more vigor at the sound.

 

“I’ll see you round,” Armitage waved as Millicent sat and watched them go, ever so curious.

 

“Hey,” Ben called from behind a still squatting Armitage, backpedaling and getting ready to catch up to his rowdy pups. “Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

 

Caught off guard by the sudden sincerity laced through his voice — no, woven tightly into it, Armitage just smiled and nodded his agreement. “Won’t be. Promise.” He tried not to dwell on the thought that they never _could_ be strangers to each other.

 

Satisfied with that, Ben continued with his exercise and jogged in the direction Armitage had come from, chasing the dogs into the deeper heat of the late morning.

 

Shaking away the buzzing energy he felt as he rose to stand, he continued on to Phasma’s, trying and failing to ignore the way his fingertips were alight, the way his brain was sharper and more responsive than usual. Ben had always had that effect on him, ever since they were just children, way before either of the two had really understood or could predict what life and the strange way it worked would transform them into.

 

With a sigh that he felt all the way in his toes, the energy fizzled, yet remained at a simmer, angry with himself for not saying all the things he most certainly had to tell Ben, upset with the way things had ended, or, rather, ceased to take place, yet still, under the soil of regret and pain and longing lay a seed of hope.

 

He looked up; the sky was cloudless.

 

-

 

Phasma had been her typical enthusiastic, positively delightful self when he had stopped in. They’d chatted for a long while, sitting in a pair of old rocking chairs on her porch until they slowly pulled themselves up and back to Armitage’s house, still discussing the events of the months they spent apart as though they didn’t text nearly every day during that time. Still, seeing a dear friend’s face and feeling their presence was infinitely better than reading carefully chosen words through a screen which could still become confusing or misleading.

 

Phasma towered above Armitage, short golden curls and tendrils which became bleached in the sunlight crowned her head, and her blue eyes were even more striking in the summer. She was not one to hide her emotions, nor was she to keep her thoughts within her own wonderfully odd mind. That trait made her either one’s most treasured friend or one’s most loathed enemy. Armitage, it had seemed, had lucked out.

 

At Armitage’s, they sunbathed, obviously having slathered on a copious amount of sunblock, as both of them were beyond pale and easy to burn. He’d found a bottle of sunscreen just lying around nearest one of the beach chairs. How strange it was, that the Hux summer home — it was more of a _house_ , now — could always create the illusion of being thoroughly lived in when in actuality, it was completely empty for months on end.

 

As a comfortable silence fell between himself and Phasma, the sun washing their skin in her endless warmth, handling them with care for the time being, Armitage tuned into the sounds surrounding them, to the somehow gentle cacophony of the lake life. The cicadas stated the obvious, the birds sang their repetitive tunes. A lawnmower could be heard, if he was very focused. And, of course, there was the bittersweetness of the sounds of the Solos, their laughter, their shouts, splashes, and, unsurprisingly, the country music that Armitage had no taste for, yet could tolerate at the soft tone it was playing at present. He tipped his sunglasses downward, peering out into his yard. Millicent was on the dock, sitting still as ever and staring into the water, presumably observing the sunnies as they flitted by, their scales in the sun like coins in a wishing well. Brendol had been watering the flowers when he had returned with Phasma, though now he was likely caught up in work Armitage both didn’t understand and didn’t have any desire to understand.

 

Across the lake, Armitage watched as Ben, in his infamous black speedo, chucked a stick into the water from his own dock, laughing as the dogs nearly killed each other to race out and retrieve it. Two men, the same two that had been with Ben at the campfire, were there taking turns throwing the stick. They were Poe Dameron and Finn Walkins. Armitage had known them well. Ben went to school with them his whole life, and the three had stayed close all throughout.

 

_Don’t be a stranger, alright?_

 

Armitage frowned. In that moment, he felt like exactly that to Ben.

 

Perhaps if he swam in the lake, the seed would grow!

 

_‘No,’_ he thought with a sad tilt to his head. _‘The seed would surely drown. There is such a thing as overwatering.’_

 

And it happened all too often to fragile things, such as this moment in time. 

 

He tuned out the sounds that were coming from across the lake, traveling swiftly on a breeze here and there, stealing passage to his space.

 

Benjamin was preoccupied, observing that gorgeous little Armitage across the lake, as he could be found doing at any given time of day. So distracted was he, in fact, that he was nearly mowed down by Chewbacca as he raced the other dogs into the lake following Finn’s launching of the stick. He managed to keep his balance, though, and maybe he was being hopeful and stupid, but he was _sure_ Hux’s eyes were trained on him just moments ago. Poe’s voice pulled him from his daydream.

 

“Dear fuck, Ben, why don’t you just hop on a jet ski and go talk to him? Shouldn’t be too hard. Didn’t you guys date or something?” Poe sounded exasperated, but his expression was soft when Ben finally looked at him.

 

“Uh, something like that. Kind of,” Ben replied listlessly, not wanting to stand here and ponder over the past, as that was what he did in all his alone time.

 

“Benjamin!” Leia’s voice cut sharply through the air, making him whip his head around to look at her. “Grandma and Grandpa are here,” Leia’s voice had softened, and she even smiled as he all but ran up the slight hill to greet them. She glanced at his attire, smile faltering ever so slightly. “You’re going to give them a heart attack in that,” she mumbled. “I don’t know why your father and I let you prance around half-naked all summer.”

 

In response, Ben simply stepped in front of his mother and wiggled his ass, throwing a self-satisfied smirk over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes but didn’t try to hide the grin she wore.

 

He stepped onto the rocky expanse of a driveway to greet his grandparents as they unpacked their car.

 

“…and your grandmother here insisted I was going the wrong way, but, surprise, surprise, here we are,” Anakin was telling Ben’s cousin, Rey, a fond smile painting his face. He leaned in to the both of them, clapping a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I don’t know why she ever doubts my sense of directions.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re the best driver in the history of the known universe. Don’t forget the cooler in the trunk, _Captain_ ,” Padmé teased, hugging both her grandkids. With Ben, she took him by the shoulders and observed his swimwear, asking him to do a turn for her. He obeyed and she clapped her hands together. “Well, I think they’re a great fit, I’ve no idea what your mother was talking about!”  Anakin nodded in silent agreement with his wife.

 

At that, Ben turned to shoot his mom an inquisitive look, but she was already walking inside with her parents’ bags. “Thanks, Grandma. I’m flattered.”

 

And so Ben carried a bag into his grandparents’ room, which was just through the door nearest the deck, casting a glance through the window to the house across the lake. Hux and his friend were still laying out in the sun. Ben made a decision just then, and once he settled on something, it took a great effort for his stance to change.

 

He decided to ask Hux (as he often referred to the young man as such) and his friend, Phasma, to join him and his own friends later as they did…something. A fire, maybe, or a game of cards? He’d figure something out in the moment.

 

So he sauntered out onto the deck, descended the steps onto the plush green grass and made his way over to his bright yellow jet ski. Beside it in the sand was a white and red jet ski that belonged to his dad, and stood peering at the inner workings, a side panel ripped away to reveal its insides, was the man himself.

 

Han Solo glanced up at his son as he pushed his jet ski onto the water. “Going for a ride?”

 

“I’m gonna see if Armitage and Phasma wanna hang out later, with me and the guys and Rey.”

 

Han looked up from his work, bushy brows drawn together. “Oh,” he nodded, eyes squinting over across the lake. “Tell me, Benny, how is Armie? And Brendol, how is he doing?”

 

Ben bit his lip. He didn’t like it when his family treated the Huxes like a poor sob story, as if all they needed was the entire lake’s pity. But he had a mission and he didn’t wish to argue with his dad. “Armitage seems to be doing alright, as good as he can be, anyway. And I’ve only seen Brendol once, and you know how he is. I don’t think he’s a liar, but politicians aren’t...they can be, you know...”

 

Han nodded as Ben trailed off. He turned his face, his perpetual frown deepening as he went back to fixing his jet ski without a word.

 

Ben left his dad to it, sticking the key that was attached to his lifejacket into the ignition and starting his jet ski. He glided over the water and was at the Huxes’ shore in a flash. Phasma sat up and smiled at him, and he returned the gesture. But quickly his eyes were locked onto Hux, who was sprawled out on his chair like the god of the sun, glowing, hair aflame more so than usual, lips a pink and pretty pout. Ben believed he’d never see a picture quite as perfect as him. He felt his lips part, but he said not a word.

 

Phasma, sick of being the silent spectator, said, “Armitage! You have company…”

 

Armitage sat up, an indifferent look set about his features until he caught Ben in his sight. “Oh,” he said softly, a puzzled quirk to his brow. “Hello.”

 

Ben felt his knees wobble when Hux’s green eyes clearly and unabashedly raked over his body, but he luckily still clutched his ride for balance.

 

“Uh, hi,” Ben finally greeted, eyes dancing everywhere but into Hux’s space. “Me and the guys were wondering if you two would wanna join us later, for a fire and then, I don’t know, some beers and night swimming off the dam?” Ben was aware of the hopeful lilt of his voice, but he was not the type of person to care what others may make of it.

 

A wide, beautiful smile blossomed on Armitage, but Phasma was nodding before he could speak. “Yeah, that’d be fun! We’ll be there.” She fixed Armitage with a stern look that Ben pretended not to notice. He smiled, looking into the water that submerged his feet.

 

To his relief and excitement, Hux said in soft surrender to his friend’s insistence, “Okay, yeah.” His voice was hardly audible, but that mattered little when Ben was already zeroed in on him.

 

Ben grinned at both of them. “Alright. Great. See you later, then,” said Ben, already backing his jet ski out to deeper water.

 

Armitage watched with piqued intrigue as Ben zipped away, jet ski creating ripples in the water, wind creating waves in his hair.

 

_Won’t be. Promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i do believe padmé and anakin are corny grandparents that fully support ben wearing a tiny speedo
> 
> thank you so much for all the love on the story already! kudos and comments (ESPECIALLY comments!) mean a whole lot to me (: .
> 
> a mood board for this au, if that kinda thing just butters your egg roll - https://sarahstarkiller.tumblr.com/post/171226991932/sweet-summertime-arkanis-pond-was-an-attractive


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